


Game Boy

by Slater_Babe



Category: The Misfits (Podcast), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Living Together, Marijuana, Massages, Masturbation, Maybe a little comedy??, Moving In Together, No Angst, Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Tension, Sex Toys, Sexual Tension, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Streaming Together, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Vaginal Sex, YouTubers - Freeform, canon AU, idk - Freeform, smoking weed, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23137435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slater_Babe/pseuds/Slater_Babe
Summary: You didn’t know what to expect when moving to Melbourne, but living with SwaggerSouls definitely wasn’t in the plan.Stealing his sweatshirts wasn’t in there eitherBut aboveall else, falling in love with him was definitelynoton the cards, that’s for sure.
Relationships: Swaggersouls/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 117





	1. Loading...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Back again for my second fic. Fell in love with the Misfits when I was gone, and noticed a huuuuge lack of Swagger/reader fics, so I wrote this first chapter up here. Hope u like it! Pls comment and give kudos <3

Since you quit your day job, Saturday nights have seen a lot more than just Netflix and midnight snacks. 

Your recent channel growth combined with your natural determination to stay on this high for as long as possible has given you the chance to do what most only dream of: play video games for a living. Yeah, at first going without a regular job had been difficult. For a while there, you were actually living off of ramen noodles. But thankfully, a small merch drop and a few good hosting deals were enough to relieve both your bank account and your waistline, hence why you’ve since gotten your life together and managed to make a profit.

And fuck, it was a good profit. Of course, though, you were into it for more than just the money. Ever since a young age, you’ve had an affinity for video games. Since you were a girl, you’d been judged, ridiculed, and even shamed for taking a shining to games like Runescape, Dark Souls, WOW, and (more recently) FPS games. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself, you always found your way back to your computer, taking solace in the virtual world over the real one.

And good thing, too. Of all the friends you have today, an even 70% of them you met online; almost ridiculously, you’d take them as your best friends over anyone else in real life. Sure, you got some out-of-line comments every once in a while, but that was just a working hazard. Overall though, the people you met online were kind to you, if not completely heart melting.

Speaking of friends…

“Hey, Y/N, wassup,” you hear Fitz interject as soon as you join the Skype call. The boys were up late tonight trying to rack up footage for YouTube videos, and since you figured you had nothing better to do, you thought you might as well join in. 

You adjust the mic in front of you, and before you can even respond, several other voices are cheerfully greeting you.

“Hey, guys,” you say with a smile, coming face to face with the pre match screen, where you arm yourself with a Galil, and wait impatiently for the round to start. You see Swagger in the corner of spawn, idly spinning his knife in his fingers. Smitty and Jay are doing something similar, while Racc is straight up jumping in place.

The night continues as you’d expected it would. You win a couple matches, you lose a couple. Swagger compliments you on a 4K, while the other boys patronizingly cheer you on in the background. Although, that cheering is quickly replaced with joking jibes the second you get hit with a headshot around the first corner you turned. You take all their horsing around with a smile on your face, giving it back in kind, to which the others profusely thank you for some “good content.”

However, after all the cameras are turned off, and you, Swagger, Cam, and Jay are the only ones left to play a few more rounds, things get a bit more serious.

“I mean, I know it’s a big decision, but I really don’t know what’s stopping you anymore,” Fitz says as he peeks down a hallway.

“Yeah, honestly, it might do you some good. You’re playing with us, like, every other night, and I know it fucks you up,” Swagger comments, “Your timezone is eastern, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer thoughtfully; they’ve been bugging you about this for quite some time now.

“Staying up until 2 every night just so we can fuck around in CS can’t be good for your beauty sleep, _princess_ , and trust me, you need it,” he finishes, and by the tone of his voice, you can tell he’s taking the piss out of you.

“Fuck off,” you curve with a laugh; these boys might be assholes, but they had a good sense of humor.

“All I’m saying is that moving to Australia isn’t a bad idea. You’ve been looking for a new place recently anyway, so you might as well change your scenery, too,” Jay adds.

And, fuck, they did have a point. Now that your finances were a bit more stable, you could afford to do a bit better than a studio apartment on the outskirts of the city. Never mind the fact your pipes were getting a bit leaky, and you didn’t feel like picking a bone with your landlord once again.

Plus, if Australia was what it seemed like on the TV, it couldn’t be that bad, right? You’d be within driving distance of a few of your best friends, get to see more than what the US had to offer, and your parents would probably be happy for you, too.

Only problem? Moving to Australia. From the USA. Which would probably be a process in and of itself. But, if it meant you’d get a reprieve from the shady air conditioning in your current apartment, you just might be willing to endure it.

“Well—I’m not disagreeing with you guys, but I’d have to think about it. I mean, moving out isn’t exactly something I can do on the fly.”

“Want me to get Ryan to book you a flight for later tonight?” Swagger asks, joking.

You crack a small half laugh at that, continuing on with a small “no, I’m fine.”

“Well, if you change your mind, give us a call,” Fitz says; you can hear him fidgeting with his headset in the background, “I’m sure any one of us would help you out if you needed it.”

You smile at his warm words, the other boys instantly agreeing with him, voices overlapping.

“Thanks, guys,” you say sincerely, logging off of CS, “I promise I’ll think on it, I just need some time.”

They all announce their understanding before the call ends. You power off your computer and cross the room to your bed, immediately burying yourself under the covers as soon as your body hits the mattress.

—————-

As it turns out, moving to Australia was apparently something you _could _do on the fly. Or, at least your parents were on board with it. You’d met them for coffee earlier in the week; it was early in the morning (damn old people hours, to be honest) and you hadn’t even finished your first cup before you accidentally let the beans spill.__

__They’d asked you about how the channel was going, and you (an idiot) somehow managed to mention the boys’ suggestion. You knew you’d fucked up the moment your mom’s eyes widened, an excited smile curving over her lips. Your dad had a similar reaction, although his was more composed._ _

__“That’s great, honey,” he offered, taking a sip from his mug, “when do you think you’ll be leaving?”_ _

__“I mean—I wasn’t exactly planning on actually doing it,” you mumbled in response, gravely regretting your mistake._ _

__“Well, why not?” Your mom asked, browns taut. And it all went downhill from there. The rest of the breakfast was spent assuring you it was a good idea, lamenting your current, crappy apartment, and googling facts about Australian wildlife._ _

__“C’mon, hon, you deserve to do this! You’ve been working hard and your channel’s grown so much. Do you really want to keep living in that shabby old thing?” Your mom pushes; you could tell by the tone of her voice she was entirely serious._ _

__“Well, even if I did do it, it’d probably be really hard to find a good place to live. Plus, moving furniture halfway across the world won’t be cheap.” You’re on the defense now and you know it; somehow, her attitude was beginning to edge on you._ _

__“Your mother and I could take care of your apartment and furniture while you look for a place to stay—better yet, couldn’t you just ask one of your Australian friends to let you put up in their house until things are sorted out?” Your dad asks. You don’t bother mentioning that your ‘Australian friends’ aren’t actually Australian and that they happen to be five men._ _

__Which is exactly why you've ended up on your computer at 2 in the morning, checking for the cheapest flight you could manage to get within the next week. God, the duration of the flight has you rolling your eyes. 23 hours plus a layover in Philly. Fuck._ _

__After staring down the prices of a few flights, you figure ‘what the hell’ and click the next one you see. You send a quick prayer to your bank account, before opening your contacts._ _

__2:00 am…what’s that? Like, 11:00 AM in Melbourne?_ _

__You shoot a few messages to some friends, namely Fitz, Swagger, and Toby, but Swagger manages to get back to you first. You really weren’t expecting a phone call, especially since he knew how late it was for you, but there it was, buzzing on your screen._ _

__You pick up._ _

__“Hey, man,” you open with, not entirely sure what kind of dialogue this situation constitutes._ _

__“So, you’re, uh, you’re coming to Melbourne?” You can hear a smile in the tone of his voice, and you manage a small grin._ _

__“More like moving there, actually,” you correct, straightening your posture._ _

__“Wait, really?” You hear him shuffling on the other side phone; books or something, “You’re kidding.”_ _

__“I’m not.”_ _

__“You’re not fucking joking with me, are you? Like, you’re serious?”_ _

__“Swagger, I already booked the fuckin’ ticket,” you laugh exasperatedly, trying to imagine the look on his face, only to realize you can’t exactly remember how his face even looks._ _

__“Wow, okay,” he answers, sounding somehow impressed with the situation, “When are you getting here exactly?”_ _

__You’d be flattered by how much interest there is in his voice if you weren’t dying with nerves over what you’re about to ask._ _

__“That’s—that’s actually what I called to ask you about. I’m supposed to get there, uh…” you look back at your computer screen, scanning the ticket you bought, “Friday, and I don’t really have a place to stay.”_ _

__He hums on the other line, thoughtful._ _

__Regardless, you panic._ _

__“I could, uh, book a hotel, y’know, but I figured I might ask you guys, since, y’know, you have actual houses there, so…” you trail off, facepalming at the fact you managed to stutter three times in one sentence; god you probably sounded like an idiot._ _

__Swagger hums on the other line, his deep voice trailing off into a soft crackle in the speaker. It's kind of outrageous just how fast your heart was beating at just asking him a question, lord only knows how nervous you’d be if he actually took you up on it. A couple seconds and a few beads of sweat down your forehead later, he speaks up._ _

__“Well, if you want to, you can crash at my place. I got a spare room and shit that you can use, doesn’t really matter how long you stay, as long as you don’t fuck up the furniture or some shit.”_ _

__“No, yeah, definitely,” you agree, sounding hopeful._ _

__“Yeah, yeah, don’t thank me just yet. Trust me when I say you’ll regret it eventually. My place constantly smells like weed, for obvious reasons, y’know. So I’ll apologize in advance. You don’t smoke, do you?”_ _

__“No, I don’t,” somehow, you felt like kind of a loser for saying that, but you know Swagger wouldn’t rib on you for it. Although, you did want to try it someday… “I won’t mind if you did it either. I mean, it’s your house, Swags.”_ _

__“Well, looks like we’ve reached a nice little agreement here,” he replies, sounding rather happy about it, “I’ll keep myself in check, though. No smoking in the house, no drinking until dinner--I’ll even stop jacking off in the shower--it’s gonna be great.”_ _

__You blush at his words, but laugh nonetheless. On some obscure level, the sarcasm was endearing, but you were more distracted by the fact that this was all gonna work out in the end._ _

__“Look, Swagger, you don’t have to censor yourself for me,” you manage between giggles._ _

__To which he says, “I’m not censoring myself, Y/N, I’m just being a _gentleman.”__ _

__“As if you, of all people, could be a gentleman,” you shoot back, smiling._ _

__“Hey, you might be surprised, cunt.”_ _

__

__At that, you laugh wholeheartedly, grinning stupidly to yourself in the dark, like some sort of psychopath. But it was kind of nice, laughing like this, cussing back at a friend over the phone, knowing you’d get to see him in real life soon._ _

__\------------_ _


	2. Pre-Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swagger picks you up from the airport to take you out for some late night snacks (feat. His ‘gentlemanly’ attitude).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Back again with another chapter. So this chapter is 3K; every chapter will probably be about 2k. Honestly there probably won’t be a super regular upload schedule, but I won’t make u guys wait :))) pls give comments and kudos if you like it!!’

As much as you’d been half-dreading, half-anticipating the hellish 23 hour trip that’d land you in Australia, the day came, nonetheless. As promised, your mom reminded you that everything in your apartment would be taken care of eventually. At least you had that for your peace of mind. Everything else, though… 

Just packing your bags had been a process in and of itself. You’d managed to stuff a good ¾ of your closet into a suitcase, but feared how hard your bank account would be hit if you brought anything more than that. You managed to get one more stream in before heading to the airport, just to tide your fans over until you managed to make another one.

You didn’t bother telling them about moving to Australia; it’d make a cute surprise for them when everything was settled. 

(Plus, free content, so…)

Only thing left was sorting out your ride from the airport. Once again, you were back on the phone with SwaggerSouls at 3AM, sitting in the wait area of the airport, half-asleep, not really alive anymore.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you chuckle into the speaker, Swagger causing a scene on the other end.

“Nah—fuck that. Fuck. That. You’re not getting me out the house at 2 in the goddamn morning; call a fucking Uber or some shit,” he argues jokingly.

“Swags, do I look like a bitch that could afford a fucking Uber Black? I’m not looking to get merc’ed my first day in Australia. Please, I’m _begging_ you.”

He groans on the other end, clearly exasperated. Even though he seemed angry, you knew you’d get your way in the end. You’d been friends with Swagger long enough (almost a year!!) to have long since sussed out his soft spots. He might be tired, but he’d pick you up from the airport at 2 in the morning purely out of the goodness of his soul.

He’s a good guy, after all. You smile.

“Fuckin’ fine,” he agrees, carrying out the vowels in the word just to be dramatic. You laugh at his tone, but in reality you know he’s excited for you to get there too.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you offer, in your best, highest voice, grinning despite the five hours of sleep you're running on.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he dismisses; you imagine he’s waving his hands, “just hurry up and fucking get here.”

“I’ll try my best,” you tack on, soon ending the call.

With uncanny timing, you hear the automated voice on the intercom announce your flight is going to be boarding soon. You grab your carry on, stretch your legs for as long as you can (lord knows you’re gonna need it) and march towards the line.

—————

Six hours in and you already want to fight god. The seats are too stiff, your legs and ass are screaming at you, and—worst of all—your nose is so dry it’s threatening to recreate Bloody Sunday. But...Australia.

Sure, the spiders there might just kill you, but this plane ride would do it first. Honestly, you just want a cup of coffee and a bed to lay down in.

You’re re-watching Grey’s Anatomy, because for some reason it’s the only Netflix show you have downloaded. The plot’s a bit shit at this point, but it’s better than whatever the in-flight movie is. At least you have a tiny bag of Frito’s. At least you have that.

You have a few unanswered snaps from Cam, a few from Mason, but you didn’t have wifi to answer them. Swagger hadn’t messaged you since you got on the flight, so you figured his plans to pick you up were still on.

You settle back into the seat and try to get comfortable. You fix on your best straight face, kind of wanting to cry, kind of wanting to just die right here and now. Honestly, this thing was filling you with a lot more anxiety than you thought it would. 

It’s reasonable, though. 

It’s your first time moving countries, only your second time flying alone. People can call you uncultured, but you haven’t exactly been _around_ (at least in the traditional sense of the word). You just hope this all works out in the end. That, and you don’t develop a crippling drug addiction while living with Swagger.

—————

Twenty-three hours later, it’s 2 AM and you’re stalking through the Melbourne Airport. You hadn’t bothered to dress for the occasion; just a crappy t-shirt and sweats, your hair in a messy ponytail. You grabbed your bags in luggage claim, groaning at just how goddam heavy they felt after sitting in those uncomfortable seats for nearly an entire day. You roll them towards the exit, searching through the streaked glass for Swagger’s car. He’d texted you earlier that he drove a black sedan—which really wasn’t helpful, because there were about five different black sedans in pick up at the moment. You exit the airport, winter air immediately biting you in the face.

God, you forgot their seasons were different than yours. 

You try to contain your shivers as you scout the surprisingly long lane of cars waiting at pick up. A few employees are scattered around, all dressed in winter jackets and hats. You look back and forth nervously, about ready to walk back inside when a familiar voice catches your attention.

“Y/N!”

You turn at the sound, catching sight of a car on the far end of the first lane, a man standing between the open driver’s side door and the frame of the car. You smile at the sound and rush over, dreading the cold at the moment. 

To be completely up front, you hadn’t really _ever_ seen Swagger’s face. Sure, some of the snaps the other boys sent you had him in the background, helmet or no. But that was never the focus of your communication. You didn’t spend every second since getting to know him trying to decode his identity.

But...fuck. Maybe you should have. He was unconventionally handsome, but not in the traditional sense. Perhaps it was partly because of his likable personality that you thought that, but character or not, Swagger was rather attractive in the face. Of course, though, his eyes took center stage: brown and deep as they’d always seemed.

“Fuck, man, where’s your jacket?” He asks as you roll your suitcases up. At this point, you’re just rubbing your arms, trying to get circulation going.

“I forgot it was winter here,” you answer, teeth chattering.

“Well, hurry up and get in the car then.”

You move towards the passenger side, Swagger grabbing one suitcase in each hand and lifting them into the trunk. Not a minute later he’s circling back and climbing into the driver’s seat. 

He settles in, fiddling with the radio, before turning to you with a smile.

“What, you’re not even gonna give me a proper ‘hello?’”

“Hello,” you answer in retaliation, smiling too. He chuckles at your tone and—before you can even comprehend what’s happening—he’s pulling you in for a quite uncomfortable hug, rubs digging into the console and everything. 

Honestly, you could have pegged Swagger as the touchy-feely type, but for some reason, you just hadn’t.

Never mind your initial surprise, you hug him back, squeezing your face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. 

“It’s nice to see you, Y/N,” he says, quite sappily.

You laugh at that, but answer nonetheless, voice muffled in the collar of his jacket, “Nice to see you, too, Swagger.”

————

You’d spent the past ten minutes in the car, catching up on your personal lives. You could really only talk about so much in videos and streams with Swagger, given that his identity was your first priority. It was good to finally not have to worry about that; you find that you actually like hanging out with him in real life (and what a relief that is. Believe it or not, you’d actually been worried about whether or not you’d really get along in real life.) 

You’d been taking periodic looks out the window at the wild life around. It’s not exactly different from what you saw in America, but it has a certain feeling to it that makes it feel foriegn. Maybe it’s because you’re sitting in a different car, in a different country, with a man you’d technically never met before, but this entire experience seemed like something out of a movie.

Swagger exits the highway and a larger urban area comes into view. When he pulls into a McDonald’s parking lot, though, you’re confused. 

“You’re not tryna murder me, are you?” You ask, only half-kidding.

“Of course not,” he answers, stepping out of the care, “don’t you trust me?”

“Considering I’m usually playing support, I’m not gonna say my opinion on that just yet.”

He looks like he wants to retaliate, but at the last moment he backs off. 

“That’s fair, actually,” he posits, to which you laugh. You both walk to the front of the restaurant, but before you reach for the door, he pushes you back, reaching for it instead.

You laugh at the gesture, throwing back a snide ‘thank you’ as you enter.

“Of course, m’lady,” he offered and you chuckled.

“See, I _can_ be a gentleman.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause McDonald’s is _so_ fucking _gentlemanly_ ,” you go along with the sketch as you plop down in a booth. The table is weirdly sticky, but you choose not to dwell on that. 

“Bitch,” he begins with and—wow, you already like how your relationship is starting out, “It’s three in the goddamn morning. What were you expecting—a fucking five course meal?”

Just to layer on the dialogue extra cheesy, Swagger throws in a “What do you want from me, woman?” 

“Just get me 20 nuggets and we’ll call it even,” you barely manage through your laughter. Swagger himself is trying not to smile.

You see him walk up to the counter to order; you’re too tired to argue about him paying. It’s only a couple dollars, what the hell. 

You spend your time in the booth, staring out the window at the night sky. It’s oddly calm in here, in your mind. Surprisingly, you weren’t feeling on edge at all. Maybe you trusted Swagger more than you gave yourself credit for.

Soon enough, though, the sound of a tray sliding against the table knocks you out of your stupor. You turn to look at where the noise came from, only to find 20 golden chicken nuggets staring back at you. You lift your eyes and catch Swagger’s; he’s smiling too. Just because you’re feeling rather good tonight, you relinquish a few of your nuggets to him after a good round or two of begging. 

It’s quiet from then on, just you two snacking in silence. It’s not the uncomfortable kind of silence, though. It’s rather enjoyable, actually, and somehow you just know that this whole ‘moving’ thing is gonna be completely alright. 

About 15 nuggets later, and you’re satisfied. Swagger’s a bit pissed about having to cheat on his keto diet for you, but you dismiss it with some playful banter. 

(He enjoyed it secretly, you know that).

He moves to clear the table and while you straighten your clothes. You grab his jacket, turning it over in your palms, quite liking how the material feels. When he returns, you hand it over nonetheless. While he shrugs it on over his hoodie, you watch with impatience.

 _Had his shoulders always been that broad?_ You catch yourself thinking, purely out of appreciation.

_Well, I haven’t really seen his shoulders that much, so…_

“Hey,” he says and you promptly stop staring, “you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you answer, tailing his lead to the door. Once again, he opens it for you, and let’s you go first. This time, you smile at the gesture, thanking him in tandem. He grins warmly at your response, not the least bit joking or teasing, and you find yourself thinking that overall he’s just a kind guy. As much as you love humor, it’s good to be serious every once in a while.

And in complete contrast to what you just thought, you immediately run to the car as soon as a gust of wind hits your chilled face. You reach the vehicle a few strides ahead of Swagger, and instantly start whining at him to unlock the doors.

Just to be a dick, he makes his next few steps noticeably slower than before, completely immune to your expression.

Once the doors _are_ unlocked, however, you fling yourself into the passenger seat, closing the damn thing as fast as is physically possible. As much as he liked to keep a straight face, you see him flick on the seat heaters, nonetheless.

“Thank you,” you say, to what aspect of this entire thing, you’re not sure.

“No problem,” he answers, just as vaguely. And just like that, your dynamic falls into place.

—————-

You reach Swagger’s house just past three AM, and by that time, you’ve just about melted into the plush, leather car seats. God, you’re so damn tired. You honest to god want nothing more than something even mildly soft to lay down on and a blanket (no matter how scratchy) to keep you warm. 

The sound of the seat belt alarm shocks you awake, however, and you reach for the lock release on the door. The both of you round the vehicle to the trunk. You make to reach for one of your suitcases, but Swagger swats your hand away before you can even land a finger on it. He lifts them both up, just like he had before, and you’re amused in a way.

“I don’t remember buying the premium package for my stay,” you pose, walking with him to the door.

“Didn’t you hear? You’ve been upgraded to platinum,” he answers, although what he says is cut off as he hauls the two heavy cases up the concrete stairs in the entryway. You grab the door for him while you’re at it, and toe your shoes off by the coat closet. 

Before you can even shyly ask him to carry them up the stairs to the guest bedroom for you, he’s doing it. Somehow, you feel sort of bad about him spoiling you like this, but, more than anything, you’re flattered.

Yeah, he really is a good guy.

You follow him up to the room, watching him drop your luggage with a small sigh. He gestures for you to enter the room; you follow without question. The first thing you noticed is how clean everything is. He must have gone and organized it all, specifically for you. A fresh set of sheets are on the bed, the desk is clear, and there’s even a plug-in air freshener in one of the outlets. You swallow, because, fuck, this is way nicer than what you asked for.

Honestly, you were half expecting to sleep on a shady air mattress on the living room floor. This is 100 times better.

“Well, I figure you’re pretty tired, huh…” he says, apparently out of one liners or jokes to say, “you remember our agreement, yeah?”

“‘No fucking up the furniture’” you repeat while surveying the room with exhausted eyes.

“Good,” he concludes, scratching at his neck. “Imma duck out. If you need anything, my room is just down the hall.”

“Sure,” you reply, moving your suitcases to the far corner of the bedroom, “Night, Swagger.”

“Good night, Y/N” he adds, closing the door behind himself as he moves towards the hallway.

You don’t miss the smile he wears on his face as he goes. 

———


	3. Round 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swagger takes you out for breakfast ft. A few clichés

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty guys back again with chapter three~~ so just wanna throw this out there, but I’m completely making this up as I go. There was supposed to be more content in this chapter, but it actually turned out too long, so I cut it off. So this is 2.2k! Also just a side note: yes the dialogue in this sounds like a trashy porn intro, but that’s just a choice I made creatively that you all gotta put up with until the romance ;) comments and kudos are always appreciated <3

9:00 AM. Your senses come to the sweet scent of laundry detergent and air freshener. It’s cold in the room; obviously the AC is on way too high. You attempt to shrug the blankets further up your body, but are interrupted before you can bury yourself under the plush duvet once again.

“Hey, get up,” a gruff voice says from the end of your bed.

You mumble something incoherent in response, figuring this could wait, because—fuck—that flight had really done a number on you last night. Swagger surely had the patience to wait a few seconds.

But of course, that’s not how things panned out.

“If you don’t get up, I’m gonna pull the fucking covers off,” you hear him declare, and immediately, your eyes are shooting open. You feel his hands lock into the fabric around your knees, prepared to all but fling the flimsy thing to the floor, but you manage to save it by hooking a few fingers into the hem.

“Fuck—I’m up—I’m up,” you announce, voice nearly panicked. God, that was a close call. If he’d gone any further, he’d have gotten a full view of your bare legs, clad only in some second rate VS panties. Lord knows you’d have died from embarrassment if that had actually happened. 

“Get up,” he says again, smiling at you like he hadn’t just cut your beauty sleep (which he, himself, even said you needed) short. 

“Um,” you eloquently say as you sit up, hair a wild mess, “for what exactly?”

“I’m taking you out for breakfast,” he posits pulling a lighter from the pocket of his pants and spinning it between his fingers, “Don’t wanna waste your first day in Australia, do you?”

You vehemently disagree. Your body feels like it’s about to collapse from exhaustion.

But...Swagger _did_ let you put up in his house, so you probably shouldn’t argue. 

“Yeah—no, you’re definitely right,” you respond, balling the covers up in your fists, just in case they tried to slide off the bed again, “can you, just uh...gimme a sec? I’m kinda not...”

Your eyes flick nervously between his face and the sheets pooling around your waist; eventually he gets the message. His eyes widen, and he looks on the verge of a blush. Fuck, you’re probably red as a tomato right about now.

“Fuck—I’m so sorry, I swear I had no idea,” he offers awkwardly, obviously turning back on his earlier threat. Somehow, you find the gesture kind of adorable. Even though you didn’t want to admit it, he _could_ be a gentleman. Well—more like something _close to a gentleman_ , because it’s quite clear that several parts of your relationship thus far have been _far_ from gentlemanly.

You reassure him with a few quiet words, still flushed down to your neck in petal pink. After a few more rushed apologies, he leaves your room, gently shutting the door behind himself. You don’t miss the sound of the lock clicking, and you smile to yourself.

_He’s kinda cute, not gonna lie._

You finally stand from the bed, loose t-shirt wrinkled from your small hibernation. You hobble over to your suitcase, nearly tripping on your way over to it, and you begin pulling clothes from the opening. 

You yawn as you select a comfortable outfit for the day, thankful that you’ve managed to avoid embarrassing yourself this early on. (You probably won’t be able to hold out for much longer, though, which is quite sad because you’ve only spent, what, seven hours with the guy?)

——————-

You slip into the kitchen—fully dressed now and at least semi-awake. Swagger stands at the island, still flipping that lighter in his fingers like it was a practiced routine. Your eyes fixate on it for as long as you’ll allow, but soon your pupils are dragging back up his body.

He grins at you once again, and—for as serious a guy he seemed just from the tone of his voice alone—you find that he smiles a lot.

You smile too.

“You ready?” He asks, passing the lighter through his fingers one more punctual time before stilling it all together.

“Yeah,” you say, bracing yourself for the cold once again, “let’s go.”

And with that, he starts to head for the door.

——————

Unsurprisingly, you enter a Starbucks not 10 minutes later. You expected Swagger to be cultured, but not _that_ cultured, so this really isn’t a huge turn of events. Like a repeat of last night, he opens the door for you, but this time you can’t hold back your giggles.

“What?” He asks, still gesturing to the open walkway.

“Do you plan on doing this the entire time I’m rooming with you?” 

He raises his eyebrows at that, staring you down, as if he were unimpressed.

“Just because you said that, now I do,” he answers, fixing a smirk on his face just to watch you pout at it. But, since you were more interested in getting breakfast than trying to prove that chivalry is dead, you let it slide with a shrug. Even as you walk towards the counter, you can practically _feel_ him smirking behind you, acting like he just won something.

And, just for being a dick with the blanket thing _and_ for just being too damn nice, you shove him in front of you in the line, just so that he’ll be pressured to pay for whatever you order.

And, boy, does it work. You kind of feel bad for abusing his wallet like this, but he’d have put a fight up for it anyway, so why not expedite the process a bit?

(Plus, you wouldn’t admit it, but you kind of liked this big show of politeness he was putting on. Not only was it kind of amusing, but rather sweet as well.)

But, just to make up for being a dick in kind, you slip a few bills into his jacket pocket when he shucks it over the back of his chair, even though they’re American dollars and not Australian.

He’d appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

He returns with a few straws, one of which you happily stick into the whipped cream at the top of your cup. Without hesitation, you begin sipping. It goes on like that for a good ten seconds, just you leisurely sucking up all the whipped cream on top while he stares at you over a surprisingly bland cup of black coffee.

After a while though…

“What?” You say, cream on your lips.

“Didn’t peg you as the type for sweet drinks.”

You hum, “You’d be correct.”

His brows furrow then, and he leans forward, “Then why’d you get it?”

“Just wanted to make you spend more,” you say truthfully, biting your straw with a smile.

“Bitch.”

At that, you laugh, throwing your head back. You take another sip before continuing on.

“Well, then tell me why you got that boring ass coffee.”

He stares down at his cup, brown eyes nearly soulless as he says, “I’m trying not to go too far off keto.”

Honestly, you felt that deep in your soul; diets fucking suck. Swagger must really be determined if he’s stuck with it this long. It’s the butt of all his jokes, but you know he takes it seriously in secret. 

“Damn,” you say in response, because you really didn’t have the brain power to translate your thoughts into words at the moment, “good on you for keeping at it, though. I wouldn’t last one fucking day on that shit.”

“Trust me, in the span of the past twelve hours, that’s become entirely apparent.”

For that joke, you throw a crumpled up straw wrapper at his face, which he dodges with ease. You glare at him then, now out of ammunition.

“I was joking,” he clarifies with a smile, taking another sip of his coffee, “I don’t know how I’ve lasted on it this long; I miss bread so fucking much.”

Whipped cream finally devoured, you start in on the caramel drizzle, “yeah, no, that sounds fucking brutal. I can barely go one day without eating my weight in pasta—let alone a month or something.”

“Yeah, it’s not fun,” he agrees. 

You reach for a napkin, folding it in your hands. You stare at his fingers which are wrapped around the coffee cup. He stares at your downcast eyes. 

“Well, this is kinda a dumb question, but why do you do it then?” You pose, having created a nice paper airplane.

“Weight loss, obviously,” he responds, like it was entirely evident, “I wanna be fucking toned, y’know? That’s what girls like, right?”

He says it as a joke, but you take it in the other direction, because that brings an entirely new area of conversation into view.

“I mean, not always,” you reposition yourself in your seat, “Sure, toned guys are nice, but it’s not like other body types are bad. A dick is a dick is a dick. Y’know?”

He seems shocked by that for all but a second, before he’s back to his straight-faced self. He takes another sip of coffee.

“So what you’re saying is that, as long as they fuck well, it doesn’t matter what they look like?”

That’s a bit oversimplified but, “more or less.”

“Then, fuck,” he says, cup now back on the table, “I don’t know what I’m doing on fucking keto.”

At that, you laugh cause, shit, this is beginning to sound like the beginning of a _horrible_ porno, but maybe you kind of like it like that. 

Maybe it’s just how the analog of the fucking world works, but this sort of conversation just seemed normal. It was the staple of a lot of man/woman relationships—not all, of course—but to put it in plain terms, you couldn’t just avoid the sexual aspect of it forever. Sooner or later, you were going to get on this topic, and now that you are, it’s kind of fun not to stop.

“Well, I mean, that depends on what kinda routine you have,” you say, flinging the napkin across the table.

“‘Routine’?” He repeats, scoffing at you, “What is it, a procedure? It’s _sex_. I have a dick and I know how to use it. It’s not like I need to fucking...count my strokes, or some stupid shit that like, if that’s what you’re saying.”

You stifle a chuckle at that expression, but take it for what it is, nonetheless. You place your cup on the table, uninterested in coffee now. 

“No—what I’m asking is what’s your fucking technique. Like, let me judge for myself whether that’s a correct statement or not.”

And, fuck, you said that without thinking, didn’t you? Immediately, you want to go back on it, because that’s insinuating a lot of different things you didn’t mean to insinuate.

Thankfully, Swagger’s not offended.

“Well, we can test that out, if you want,” he waggles his eyebrows at you in a way that’s actually sort of impressive, and you stop to laugh, bending over the table at this entire fucking exchange.

God, it was so cringey. But, it was kinda fun.

You manage to speak through your giggles, catching him attempting to swallow it himself.

“I don’t know, man. Fuck your pillow before you fuck me.”

He salutes you with his middle fingers for that one, and you do the same. Honestly this kind of banter was pretty entertaining, but you needed to stop it before it went somewhere it wasn’t supposed to.

“But, yeah, I don’t really think it matters what your body type is,” you try to segue, sounding sort of like an idiot, “as long as you feel good, that’s really what matters.”

He nods his head at that, acknowledging the step back. It’s nice that he can take cues like that, especially since you’ve only really just met. 

And with that, your conversation continues like that segment had never even happened. You ask him about his personal life, he talks about his parents and how they are. Somehow it gets on the topic of drugs, and he gives you a few horror stories. Honestly, though, some of the most hilarious shit you’ve ever heard, which you make sure to let him know. Accordingly, he tells you he quit smoking cigarettes, but that he still hasn’t managed to overcome the nicotine addiction that came with it. You give him some gentle encouragement, even though you didn’t have the experiences to relate.

It’s kind of jarring, how you can go back and forth between serious and joking like this. You weren’t used to that sort of conversation, but you could recognize the tone shift. It was kind of heartwarming, in a way, that Swagger and you could move like that, having not known each other long.

Soon enough, though, you figure it’s time to leave. He has to record a podcast later today, and there was no reason to keep sitting in that Starbucks past 11. You had free wifi at home after all. 

He grabs his jacket and you clear the table this time. Once again, he opens the door for you, which you give him shit for, just because that’s what friends do. He gives you shit in kind, and you won’t admit it, but you’re thoroughly enjoying this.

‘Friends.’

You smile at that thought. Yeah, you’re friends.

———-


End file.
